Now Open Your Eyes (Stay With Me series Book 3)

by Nicole Fiorina

  Mary pointed a shaky finger at Ellen. “That Ellen, I’ll tell you what. You have to look out for that one. Never played an honest game in her life.”

  I glanced over at Ellen, who continued to nod and agree with her friend.

  “Mum, let’s take a walk in the garden. Get you outside for a little bit, yeah?”

  “Yeah, all right, handsome. And Donald,” Mary tossed a checker over at a gentleman staring out the window in a daze to grab his attention, “Watch Ellen while I’m gone, will ya?”

  “All right,” Donald nodded, munching on his veneers, his big brown rimmed glasses covering his face.

  Ethan pushed his mom in a wheelchair across the grass until we parked by a concrete table surrounded by benches. His foot pushed down the brakes of the wheelchair, making sure it didn’t wander off, and I took a seat over the bench, following Ethan’s lead. He pulled a large coat tightly around Mary’s small frame as white clouds appeared with every breath he took between them.

  “Did ya hear about that cabin fire in Cheshire? Two dead, they say,” Mary shook her head, “such a shame.”

  Two dead? My eyes snapped to Ethan, and he didn’t look shocked by the same news I was hearing.

  “You shouldn’t be watching the news, Mum,” Ethan pointed out, ignoring my blatant stare and taking a seat beside her, straddling the bench. “You should be enjoying yourself.”

  “How else am I supposed to know what’s going on in the world?”

  “You’re not, you’ve done that for far too long. It’s perfectly okay not to have to worry about everyone else. Enjoy your days. Every single one of them. For me.”

  “Then tell me about yourself, would ya? Put me at ease with some good news for once.” Mary kept her eyes out in the distance, her hand in Ethan’s and my heart clenched inside my chest.

  “Mia and I are taking off to the states after we leave here. We’re going on a boat, how’s that for good news?”

  “Are you taking your sister? You can’t leave her behind, Ethan. Olivia needs you right now. She’s not doing so well. I always said that’s why I had two kids. In case anything ever happened to me and George, you and my Livy would have each other. You have to push her through it, the darkness took her under, but you can lead her out. I know you can,” she sighed, shaking her head before turning to face Ethan, “Depression isn’t funny business. Not something to treat lightly. And it’s not that she doesn’t care about you either, you have to remember that. Depression isn’t about not caring anymore. It’s about caring too much for too long. It’s the ones with the biggest hearts, giving too much away to too many who end up in the dark,” she turned to look at Ethan, “be her beacon.”

  The tears falling were like fire against my icy cheeks, and my clouded vision trailed toward Ethan, whose cheeks were red. He briefly glanced toward me and quickly wiped a tear before it had a chance to fall. His mom had no idea she’d been dead for over two years now.

  “I know, Mum. I know,” Ethan paused to gather himself, “She’ll always be with me, wherever I go, you can rest easy knowing that.”

  “Good,” she patted the top of his hand again, “Now tell me about this trip. Will there be a wedding in the future?” Ethan laughed through a sniffle and looked over at me. “You know, they say love at first sight isn’t real. But that’s a bloody lie if you ask me. And let me tell ya something, Mary—”

  “Mia,” Ethan corrected her with a chuckle. “Mary is your name.”

  “Right, well, in any case, people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. It only takes a woman five seconds to know she’s staring at her lifetime. Now, tell me dear. How long did it take you to realize you were looking into the eyes of your forever?”

  The dead of silence landed in the space between the three of us. A matching pair of blue eyes stared at me as I contemplated my answer. Ethan couldn’t lie to her, and either could I. “Three seconds,” I whispered, remembering the moment I’d locked eyes with Ollie in the mess hall on my first day at Dolor. “It only took three seconds.”

  Seeing Mum was so much harder than I’d expected, especially since it was goodbye. She’d forget about our visit by the morning, which gave me a sense of peace as Mia and I walked out of Birch Tree Manor to the car.

  “Your mom seems like a good person,” Mia threw into the air once we were back on the main roads toward the airport, and I nodded. She hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes, and this small compliment about the woman who raised me was only a gateway into more questions about the cabin fire, and the two bodies my mum mentioned.

  I’d feared Mia would bring up the fact that it was my mum’s cabin she’d lit on fire. The cabin where my mum and dad spent memories during the holidays. At least she spared the poor woman of that news, if my mum would’ve even remembered. Still, Mia had held her tongue, but her heavy stare had been hard to ignore. Thankfully, Mum quickly changed the subject, lifting the tension.

  Mum had that effect on people. I was going to miss her.

  At the corner of my eye, Mia shook her head, unable to sit still. “How could there have been two deaths, Ethan? I don’t understand. Do they think we’re dead? That doesn’t make sense. If we’re here, then whose bodies did they find?”

  There it is. The pressure of Mia’s questions was as if she were a thousand pounds and sitting in my lap, pouring cement down my throat. It was in the fifties outside, but I still rolled down the window, needing more air in the stifling space.

  “Don’t ignore me. No more secrets, remember?”

  It seemed my puppet cut another string, and I was losing control of her. She was turned in her seat, facing me with her hands waving out in front of her as I kept my attention on the road. The questions kept coming, and I couldn’t piece together an explanation that didn’t make me sound any less of a monster. Only twenty minutes left until we were at Liverpool airport, and if I couldn’t contain this problem, I didn’t know how I’d be able to get her on the plane compliantly.

  A Frankie & Benny’s was up ahead, and I pulled into the car park and cut the engine. My eyes landed on her two hands resting on her thigh, and I took them, heating them between mine, thinking about what I would say. I couldn’t lose her. I’d read her psych file back at Dolor to understand her better. Mia responded positively to touch. I’d invested too much time into this girl. I’d studied this girl. I’d consoled this girl. I’d bent over backward and disrupted my plan for this girl. Then Masters had come back and intervened. If it weren’t for him, Mia and I would probably be together romantically this very moment. But I’d settle for whatever she would give me right now, and the rest would come with time.

  I closed my eyes, taking in as much oxygen as my lungs would allow before looking into her daunting brown eyes. Then I released it, slow and steady. “Do you remember the story I told you about with Ashlyn?”

  Mia impatiently nodded. “How does she have anything to do with this?”

  “Everything. I couldn’t let them live, not after what they did. The two bodies they found in the fire were Ashlyn’s father and his mate. I killed them both. For a number of reasons.” An abrupt pause played out between the two of us. Her eyes froze, locked on mine. I waited for a reaction, more than the drawn-out stare. Possibly for her to scream for help or try to escape from the car. If Mia wanted complete honesty, I should’ve also told her the apartment we slept in the past couple of nights was Ashlyn’s dead father’s too, but that would have taken it too far, and she hadn’t specifically asked.

  Mia pulled her hand from my grasp and looked at me as if she were seeing me for the first time.

  “Mia,” I reached for her hand, and she jerked it away. My fingers pushed through my hair. I needed to pull us back to where we were thirty seconds before. “Talk to me.”

  Her chin lifted, studying my every move, which was disappointing. She was losing the little faith she had left in me. “What were your reasons?”

  I exhaled. Perhaps not. Mia wanted to hear me out. This was good. T
aking a dive, I reached for her lap, and she didn’t move. My palm landed between her legs, and I gripped her tiny thigh in one hand, giving her the touch she needed to get her through my next confession. Her muscles relaxed, and I continued, “The most important reason was for Ashlyn. They left her there to die to save themselves. What kind of father does that, Jett?” A sore spot Mia had understood well, and she shook her head, processing. I saw it in her eyes, the way she was trying to work the problem in her head. “Second, I needed to test the drug to carry out my revenge at Dolor. But they deserved it. They all fucking deserved it.”

  My hand was practically begging at this point, having a mind of its own and moving underneath hoodie to find skin. She just needed to let me in. Then we would be fine. My palm rested over her hip, and I gave her a gentle squeeze.

  Mia released a shallow breath. “How many people have you killed?”

  It was a simple question, one with a number for an answer. “You have to believe me when I say I don’t take the lives of people who don’t deserve it.”

  “Ethan,” her voice scattered, “how many?”

  I sucked in a breath and brushed my thumb across her stomach. “Six.” I’d be able to name them all too, and every person in their immediate family, their addresses, how they preferred their tea …

  “Six?” she laughed, but it was empty, and I’d lost her, “You’re a certified serial killer, you do know that right?” she looked around the cabin of the car, eyes bugging out, “I don’t know why the extent of this situation didn’t hit me before, but you’re a serial killer. I’m actually on the run with you, a serial killer. You’re a serial killer, Ethan! You kill people. People! More than one! You’ve murdered people.”

  No matter how many times she’d said it, it didn’t change anything. “Six,” I confirmed. “Six lives who deserved it.”

  “So, that makes it okay?”

  “I didn’t say that.” I’d never asked for this. Livy’s murder had taught me a lot. Anyone could be capable of anything when grief mixed with anger. In my case, a ruthless monster was born. Mia side-eyed me almost as if she couldn’t look at me, but wanted to make sure she knew where my other hand was at all times. I still had one latched to her hip to keep us connected, to keep her with me. “I’m not going to hurt you, Jett. I. Love. You. Don’t you see that by now? If the roles reversed, and you were in fact missing, I’d be filing every fucking report, knocking on every door, stopping at nothing to find you. Yes, I’d even fucking kill for you. That’s how much I care about you. Not Masters, not your fucking dad, or Lynch. Me!”

  “This is a lot.” A tear slipped from her eye, and I leaned over to catch it with my thumb.

  “I know.” Two steps forward, ten steps back. I scratched my jaw, a nervous habit, wishing I could use my hands to untangle all her worries.

  Then she quietly added, “Did you feel it? The silence?”

  My brows pinched together. “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind,” she muttered, looking off into the car park.

  “Let’s have breakfast, all right? Take this slow. You can ask me anything you want.”

  Mia had ordered the pancakes with chocolate and banana. She’d moaned with every bite, eyelids fluttering, and I decided her psych file was incorrect. It wasn’t touching that calmed her. It was food. In seconds, she cleared her plate as if she hadn’t eaten in two years.

  When I’d told her she could ask me anything, I didn’t mean about fucking Masters. Question after question, and each one revolved around the tosser, a few about Lynch. She was so interested in seeing Masters’ poetry book, the cover, the news articles, and scrolling through my mobile, reading every review. Masters fucking lied to her, and her face lit up at the screen like a pleased girlfriend. She’d never looked at me like that before. Would she ever? Masters made something of himself, and the only thing I’d accomplished over the last year was murder.

  At the airport, Mia stayed silent at my side as we checked into customs. Every step closer to the terminal, my conscience weighed heavier and heavier. Something inside me changed. Maybe it was seeing my mum today, or perhaps it was because I loved Mia enough, I’d be willing to let her go. Either way, once we would board the plane, there was no turning back. She knew it too.

  People pushed past us, rushing to catch their flight as Mia and I stood awkwardly in the waiting area to board the plane. My fist tightened around the handle of our duffle. We had no other luggage, but this was all that was needed. There wasn’t a passing second wasted, each one of them spent contemplating the next words I’d say. Over the last two weeks, I’d made sure to gather all evidence to show Mia what a piece of shit Masters and Lynch both were, giving every reason to despise them to get her here, at this airport, under her own free will. But I’d been an idiot all along. Their bond was too strong. Stronger than hers and mine could ever be. I’d realized there was nothing I could say to keep her from loving him. No matter how long Mia and I were together, one year, five years, twenty years, he would never go away. Oliver Masters permanently stained her.

  To be the good guy for once, I needed to let her know she had this single opportunity to leave. I’d give her the option now, and if she didn’t take it, it was possible I’d keep her forever.

  “Mia—”

  “It’s fine, Ethan.”

  “You can have my car. You should go to him.”

  She looked up at me under heavy lashes. “No, you were right. Ollie is a liar. He never loved me. Never even bothered looking for me.”

  “But—”

  She placed her hand over my arm to stop me. “I’m going with you.”

  My heart jumped, the Monster cheered, and our destination and flight number rang over the intercom, notifying passengers it was time to board. Mia pulled her hand away, and though I was pleased with her decision, I was also worried I’d be looking into those disheartened eyes for the rest of my life.

  Thirteen hours later, we made it to JFK airport in New York City, but we gained five hours back due to the time change, making it six at night. About a week ago, Dean mailed me the location of my new car, which was waiting in the car park at the airport with our new identities located inside the glove box. I’d never questioned or doubted Dean, but I was still dumbfounded by him and the things he was able to do. He’d got the job done, and I owed him a lot.

  Mia hadn’t questioned it either. For the most part, she’d been quiet during the entire trip. Utterly spent, I looked over at Mia from inside the cabin of the brand new black Supra. Her eyes matched the same red color and heaviness mine surely had. “Do you want me to drive?” she asked with soft humor in her tone. I would be able to figure it out, the different sides of the road, but tonight wasn’t a night to take chances considering our exhaustion and unfamiliar territory.

  Under a silent agreement, we both exited the car and switched places.

  Mia pulled into the nearest hotel. It was posh and pricey, but the cash planted in the glovebox gave us enough to get by until we made it down to Louisiana to fetch the yacht.

  Our travels finally caught up with us, and as soon as we entered the hotel room, I plugged my phone into the charger and took one of the beds, sinking into the soft white duvet, and closed my eyes. Mia’s breathing sounded above me, and I opened one eye to see her standing with her hands clasped in front of her. “I … um …”

  I lifted the sheet, motioning for her to curl up at my side. I didn’t ask her, it was her choice, and she didn’t hesitate. After the long day, the truths I’d admitted, the heartbreak she was enduring because of Masters, it was me she needed. And I’d be here for her every step of the way. My palm gripped her bare thigh, and I wrapped her leg around mine to pin her against my front. She was tiny in my arms and looked up at me through wet lashes. I hadn’t known she was crying.

  “You’re right,” she whispered. “We’re the same, and I’m going to try.”

  Her lips brushed my neck, and my eyes pinched closed, my monster inside smiled, but my n
erves shook at her confession. I didn’t want her to try to love me, I just wanted her to, and the warm tears trailing over my skin from her eyes reminded me she was lying.

  Mia would never be unconditionally mine. Mia Rose Jett would forever be his.

  She’d always belong to Masters, and there was not a bloody thing more I could do to change that.

  Each time I’d driven back home to Ockendon, I’d lost a piece of myself. This triple life I’d been living had taken a toll on me. Not a double life. A triple life. The poet, doing book signings and adhering to a schedule Laurie laid out. The criminal, partaking in illegal and immoral wrongdoings. And the fiancé, making sure every action I took, and every mask I put on, only brought me one step closer to finding her while protecting the life I’d set up for us.

  The address sent over brought me to a street in Grays South with chain-linked fences and rundown properties littered with rubbish. It was almost ten at night, and the buzzing street lamp shone a spotlight over the neighborhood kids playing basketball in the middle of the street.

  I walked into the questionably stable house, and Adrian, Reggi, and James were already here. The three of them arguing, but still passing a blunt around. Adrian and James were sitting comfortably over a torn plaid couch as Reggi stood with his hand flying back and forth between the two of them.

  Dex appeared from a hallway, dark attire, hair slicked back, with his phone attached to his ear, and as soon as his gaze hit mine, he lowered his voice and pulled a cigarette to his mouth. I walked closer, and he turned his back to me, quickly ending the call. Facing me again, he pocketed the phone in his jeans. “You’re late,” he approached the kitchen counter and rolled the tip of the fag into an ashtray to put it out enough to save for later, “You need to get a handle on this situation, Oliver.” He nodded over to the other three arguing. He was hiding something from me, and I eyed him suspiciously.

  Was he deflecting? I pointed to the phone in his pocket. “Was that about Scott?”